


Skipping Time

by superagentwolf



Series: A Spell or Two [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Episode: s04e12 Smoke & Mirrors, Fix-It, Gen, Pre-Slash, Season/Series 04, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-22
Updated: 2014-09-22
Packaged: 2018-02-18 08:44:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2342276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superagentwolf/pseuds/superagentwolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles has a spell. He doesn't know if it'll work without Lydia, but he has to try.<br/>Or, the one in which Stiles uses a spell to time travel in an attempt to stop everything from happening. It's strange and wonderful and extremely terrifying. What do you do when no one remembers but you?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Stiles turns the paper over in his hand, eyes scanning the lines written in black ink. It’s an old spell and it may just be useless but he has to try.

Lydia isn’t with them. Stiles tries to quell the pounding in his chest as he thinks about doing this alone. He knows it’s risky at best, but what other choice does he have?

“Breathe”, Derek orders from across the van. He’s trying to keep eye contact with Liam, firm words and determination grounding the boy. For now.

The spell is simple. That’s how Stiles knows (thinks) it’s real. Just a few words, a few ingredients, and time could change forever.

Lydia is supposed to help, though. The spell requires massive amounts of energy and they were never sure what would happen. They were going to do it together, just in case.

Liam starts breathing heavily and Stiles shifts in his seat. The bag of ingredients is light in Stiles’ pocket.

_Please let it work._

 

* * *

 

The world is reeling and so is Stiles, air escaping his lungs in a sudden gasp. Derek lies against a rock, breathing labored.

Stiles doesn’t want to go.

He feels his world shift as if the center of the universe has changed. It’s like jumping in a pool and losing all sense of direction only to realize that up is down.

There’s no time for him to think about it because everyone’s going and Stiles has to be there, has to know if they won’t make it.

He turns.

 

* * *

 

There are gunshots. Malia is lying on cracked stone. Everything has gone to hell, as per usual.

Stiles bites his lip, hard. No one sees him. He moves back against the wall, rough satchel open on his palm. It smell earthy and Stiles inhales deeply, tilting his head forward. He watches the blood fall.

Scott is holding Liam by the throat. The gunshots echo.

Stiles rips the bag open, willing the dust to fly at his face. He inhales and it feels like knives tearing him apart from the inside. He chokes when it feels as if his throat is being ripped to shreds.

The words are screamed with utter conviction.

Everyone turns to look but it doesn’t matter because in a moment none of them will remember.

Just Stiles.

 

* * *

 

He can’t explain the feeling of turning back time, erasing history. It’s like deleting a folder with hundreds of files. It’s enormous.

The reversal isn’t perfect. Stiles knows what will happen. What Deaton warned them about. Stiles will jump time, the universe attempting to right itself. He may be fifteen for a week, sixteen for a day. He’ll remember the in-between but it will feel like going to sleep and waking up not knowing the day or time.

After he said the words his vision went black. He thinks he passed out; he’s not sure. There is an indeterminate amount of time in which he floats, enveloped in nothingness. It’s cold.

Stiles tries to open his eyes. He has to know where he is, when he is. Maybe he failed and he’s dead. He doesn’t know.

All he can do is wait.

 

* * *

 

When Stiles is finally able to open his eyes he sees his bedroom ceiling.

The glass board is gone. _No, not gone. It was never here. Now._ The old posters on his wall are eerily intact, never ripped down in an effort to make room for notes and colored yarn. It takes Stiles a few minutes to get used to it, the strange disconnect, the feeling that he’s walking in a set.

When he realizes that the spell worked Stiles sits, lightheaded. _It worked._ It’s wonderful and terrifying and unexpected. He breathes deeply, collecting his thoughts. _Where do I start?_


	2. The Hospital

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles has his first mission: stop Peter Hale from becoming a murdering psychopath. It doesn't really go as expected, but maybe he should've seen that one coming.

It’s surprising how unsurprising it is for Stiles to be standing before Peter’s bed.

After Stiles realized _when_ he was, he knew what he had to do. It’s summer, four years before Scott was bitten. Peter is two years into his coma and Stiles hopes to god that he’s not too late to fix this. To fix Peter before he falls over the edge.

Maybe no one really realizes it but Stiles is perceptive. He catalogs information, interactions, anything that happens with pack members. It didn’t take long for Stiles to detect a pattern, a series of behaviors and words that led him to construct an idea.

Wolves (and in one case, foxes) _need_ pack. It’s not just for training or the prospect of becoming an Alpha. It’s because wolves thrive on bonds. They need the emotional _and_ physical presence of other wolves, of _family_.

It helps them heal.

Stiles never took exact numbers; he just watched, both fearful and curious, when someone was hurt. Even a little scratch from training was important. And over the injuries and the months, Stiles had learned something.

Wolves healed faster in the presence of pack.

Stiles thinks of this as he stands over Peter’s bed, hugging himself with arms that are even skinnier than he remembers. Twelve is not the best age to be right now. Stiles remembers this time, two years since his mother’s death. It’s a time he spent more alone than anything else, Scott at camp for the most part of summer.

“Hey, Creeper Wolf,” Stiles blurts, and then he bites his lip, furtively glancing at the door before lowering himself onto the edge of Peter’s bed.

“Sorry. You don’t know me yet. I mean, right now. Or something,” Stiles frowns, pulling his legs up to hug them to his body.

“So. I came back. Or, I mean, I…well, it’s weird. See, _I_ came back- my consciousness did or whatever. But I’ve never been here. Like this.”

Stiles watches Peter, the way his eyes stare blankly at the ceiling. Stiles bites his lip, fingers itching to reach out to the man.

“So yeah. Lydia and I found a spell. We didn’t tell anyone. I kind of convinced her,” Stiles admits, and he watches Peter silently.

“People treat you differently when you’re an outsider,” Stiles says softly. “When you’re the kid whose mom just died. When you’re the kid with ADHD. When you’re the human with supernatural friends.”

Stiles sighs, adjusting his position against Peter’s legs. He knows he has to be close to the man, physically and emotionally. It’s bizarre but Stiles knows that Peter needs it- and if he can stop the eventual madness and pain that becomes Peter Hale, he will.

“So that’s how it is. I knew what would happen if I said anything. Besides, we were too worried about Scott and Kira. Too wrapped up in saving them. I was afraid. Afraid we weren’t going to win this time,” Stiles laughs brokenly, rubbing at his burning eyes furiously.

“So here I am, Creeper Wolf. You know, I always thought that was funny. You would never just _leave_. Even when you were working with us, with the pack, and Derek wouldn’t really trust you. You’d stay at the edge, watch from the stairs. I hated that. I hated how you didn’t just come down and join us. I wanted you to,” Stiles admits.

“But what can the human do? Derek never would’ve listened to me. Anyways- I hope you get better soon, Creeper Wolf. I kinda liked you, ya know? Sarcasm. Best thing since peanut butter. After I got past your killer phase and the way you tried to turn Lydia _and_ me, it was nice. Nice to have someone around that wasn’t worshiping the ground Derek and the others walked on.”

The sound of a cart rattled through the hallway outside. Stiles looked up, tensing.

“Well, there’s my cue. I’ll come back,” Stiles promised quickly, rising from the bed to push open the hospital’s window.

“It’d be weird for me to just be in here. I’ll find a way, okay? I’ll see you soon, Peter.”

 

* * *

 

Stiles knew he’d jumped time when he woke up and his nose was bleeding.

After he took care of it he looked over at his desk. The laptop was silvery and new- the one he’d gotten for his fifteenth birthday. Apparently he’d just skipped three years.

It takes a minute for Stiles to ‘remember’. He has to think for a second before the memories flood in. Talking to Peter secretly almost every day, the window he’s use to escape in and out of. Telling his dad he was going to Scott’s. Telling Scott he was taking the long way to go by the cemetery.

It wasn’t the best thing, keeping a secret for three years. But Stiles had a plan and he knew what he was doing. Mostly.

Stiles stopped at the hospital before he went to Scott’s. Melissa was there, looking younger and less worried than he’d seen her in a while.

“Stiles. Can I help you?”

Her smile hurt Stiles a little. It was painful to remember just how much their lives had changed after the bite- not just Scott or Stiles but their parents.

“Hi. I was wondering about something- I’m supposed to be doing a community service thing,” Stiles begins, waving his arms distractedly, flailing in an imitation of the way he used to be. All of his excess energy had eventually been converted, used in late-night research sessions and reckless attacks on werewolves ten times stronger than him.

“Okay,” Melissa replies, raising an eyebrow in amusement at his movement.

“Well, I was hoping maybe I could volunteer here. You know- somewhere I wouldn’t put myself in mortal danger. Like if I volunteered at the animal shelter,” Stiles adds, smiling winningly. It makes no sense but it sounds like him.

Melissa hums affirmatively but Stiles can tell that she’s not entirely convinced.

“Well, here are the forms. Look over them carefully and be sure to _tell you father!_ ”

Melissa has to yell the last part of her warning as Stiles yells a hurried ‘thanks’ and races out the front doors.

 

* * *

 

His dad is confused when Stiles mentions the hospital job. After a moment, though, he seems to understand- and his expression is somewhat sorrowful.

“Sure, son. Just don’t work too much,” he says, mussing Stiles’ hair. Stiles takes the time to protest as his father walks out but his eyes are tight, teeth biting his lip painfully.

Stiles knows what his dad thinks. That he’s working at the hospital because that’s where the memories are. The ghost of his mother, the remnants of her last days.

Scott is helpful when Stiles mentions the volunteer work. Stiles doesn’t say much about why but Scott is Scott and he doesn’t really read into it. He just accepts it as usual with a smile and a high five.

Stiles eventually convinces Scott to drop by at the end of Stiles’ shift and he smiles to himself, imagining his little pack growing just a little more.

 

* * *

 

Stiles gets assigned to lunch duty- he basically helps set up lunch trays and goes around handing them out to patients that can’t leave their rooms. It’s a simple job and his only other assignments are to help clean the kitchen and cook when needed.

Peter’s room is thankfully at the front of the hospital, on the ground floor. Stiles usually stops in before taking the empty cart to the cafeteria. It’s lucky for him that the most of the cafeteria workers are women who recognize him from his mother’s stay- they’re friendly and don’t say anything when Stiles shows up two or three minutes later than he really should.

“So I’m here to stay, Creeper Wolf,” Stiles jokes to Peter one afternoon as he’s waiting to sign out from his shift. He’d hurried through the dishes as one of the workers- Mary- had watched him, laughing and poking fun. _Got a hot date, hon?_

Scott isn’t coming by today, busy catching up on chores at home. Stiles enjoys their chats with Peter but if he’s honest he like having alone time more. Stiles knows he can tell Peter about time-jumping and it helps.

“I wonder if I bother you. Do I bother you? You can’t answer that. Um, you could blink? Shit- I’m sorry, I’m being an ass. I’m just tired,” Stiles rushes, rubbing his red face, glad that Peter can’t see.

He doesn’t see when Peter’s lips twitch as if trying to pull into a smile.

“What are you doing?”

Stiles jumps at the voice, nearly falling over Peter in the process. He’s sitting on the bed holding Peter’s hand and he just _knows_ he’s in trouble. Stiles looks back over his shoulder, ready to apologize to whatever nurse it is, but then his heart stops.

It’s Derek.

His shoulders are hunched in familiar pain and Laura is standing behind him, smiling but powerful with her blazing eyes and straight shoulders.

“Derek,” Stiles blurts before he can think. _SHIT._

Laura raises an eyebrow, glancing at Derek. Stiles swallows, willing his heart to slow down.

“Who are you?” Derek asks, and his expression is guarded.

“Um- I just- I volunteer here,” Stiles manages, and as he stands he knows his hands are waving in nonsense circles. Laura is smiling at him but this time she looks a little more amused than suspicious. “I was talking to Cr- Peter.”

Stiles flings an arm out as he turns to look at Peter and promptly smacks his hand on the pole holding a curtain around Peter’s bed.

“ _Ow,_ ” Stiles whispers, eyes watering as he clutches his bruised hand. Laura laughs, pushing past Derek to stand by Peter.

“You’re cute. What’s your name?”

Stiles flushes, mussing his buzzed hair with nervous fingers. He’s been wondering if growing it out now will make his dad wonder.

“Stiles.”

“That’s…new,” Laura says, lips twisting in a smile, and Stiles grins, sneakers squeaking as he makes his way to the other side of Peter’s bed.

“Well, my _name_ is hard. But you can call me Stiles.”

“So how do you know Derek?”

Stiles blinks, stumbling a bit as he leans back against the wall. _Huh. She’s perceptive._

“I…don’t. I mean, Derek? No. Totally not. Do not know him.”

There’s a fair amount of hand movements and Laura raises an eyebrow again, unconvinced. _Jesus, is that a Hale thing? Eyebrows?_

“So then-,”

“It’s on the police report,” Stiles blurts, and from the way Laura and Derek tense he knows he has to fix this. Quickly. “I mean- my dad’s the sheriff. I…I saw the file, when he was working on it.”

“Are you in the habit of looking at police reports?” Derek snarls, and Stiles feels his heart plummet to his feet. It’s a very Derek thing to say but he’s mad and Stiles _needs_ to fix this.

“My mom died,” Stiles says suddenly, and he hadn’t been thinking about it but it just falls from his lips. “My dad- he was working on the case a lot. I was here with my mom. I just wanted to know…,”

Reality is suddenly too close. Stiles feels his throat closing up and the hospital is immediately too white. The unwanted memories flood black and Stiles chokes on his words, hand rubbing against his mouth as he tries to disguise the way it’s twisting in pain. He knows he shouldn’t be worked up but the memory is still there, amplified by the experience with the nogitsune. He never really had time to cope and now it’s hitting him like a brick wall.

Derek makes a pained noise from the doorway and Laura opens her mouth, eyes wide. They’re literally gravitating towards Stiles and it’s so bizarre and overwhelming that Stiles bites his lip, tears threatening his eyes.

“Sorry. S-,” Stiles can’t finish his sentence and his chest is tight, breathing thin. The weight of everything- time travel, losing his friends to the nogitsune, Scott and Derek’s kidnapping- falls on him in an instant. Stiles backs away from Derek and Laura, panicking, and his eyes dart to the door. _I can’t be here. I can’t do this in front of them._

There’s a noise and Derek and Laura gasp but Stiles doesn’t notice because his vision is spotty and he’s sinking to the ground, breathing labored.

And then suddenly he feels hands on his arms, strong and sure.

“Stiles. Breathe with me,” Peter says, voice rough from disuse.

Stiles looks up at Peter, eyes swimming with tears, and lets out a sob. It’s _Peter_ crouching before Stiles, bright blue eyes worried and kind. The lines of stress and pain that Stiles remembers are no longer etched into the man’s face.

“You- you-,” Stiles tries to speak, eyes bright with tears and relief as he watches Peter smile. It’s not a smirk, not the sarcastic expression he’s used to but it’s _Peter_ and he’s _awake._ _He’s awake almost two years early._

“Yes, Stiles. Me. Listen to me. Breathe with me,” Peter says calmly, and a disconnected part of Stiles marvels at how good the man is at this.

Stiles inhales deeply, vision clearing a little bit as he controls himself.

“Good. Good job,” Peter says encouragingly, hands rubbing Stiles’ arms. Stiles chokes out a laugh, feeling his heart slow to a normal pace.

“You’re awake,” Stiles says, and he knows his voice is breaking with tears.

Peter just smiles, though, and it’s so _right_ that Stiles forgets everything. Time, fighting, the reality he’s come from where Peter has always been against them. He realizes for the first time that he’s changed history. Peter isn’t going to kill Laura. He’s not going to bite Scott or Lydia.

Stiles pulls Peter close and hugs him, half laughing and half crying. Peter just chuckles and rests his chin on Stiles’ shoulder. It’s _perfect_.

And then Stiles opens his eyes to see Laura and Derek.

“Oh- I’m- Peter,” Stiles stutters, and he pulls away quickly, shakily rising to his feet. Peter cocks an eyebrow and smirks, more like the Peter Stiles knows.

“Well. So much for the surprise.”

 

* * *

 

Peter is released from the hospital the next day. Stiles feels a surreal sense of calm as he signs out of his volunteer duty as planned, three weeks before school.

It’s funny that everything’s going according to plan.

Stiles thinks that maybe it’s the universe’s way of paying him back after all the shit that’s gone wrong. In any case Stiles is glad to be done with the hospital and its too-white walls.

“Where are _you_ going?”

Peter’s rich voice washes over Stiles and he feels an arm suddenly slung across his shoulders.

“Oh- Peter,” Stiles starts, and he smiles up at the man. His fingers tap against the nurses’ station happily. “I’m getting my papers, Creeper Wolf.”

“Creeper what?”

Stiles flails a little bit as Derek appears beside Peter, ever-present leather jacket and scowl contrasting with his uncle’s relaxed pose. Stiles scowls back at him, crossing his arms.

“Maybe _you’re_ the one I should be calling Creeper,” Stiles snarks and Peter smirks at his nephew.

“Oh, I don’t know. Didn’t you have another name for him? One that fits better?”

Stiles chokes on his laughter, ignoring the nurse’s startled look as he accepts his volunteer hours. The envelope is cool against his fingers and he flips it absentmindedly, one hand lacing with the one draping from Stiles’ shoulder. Derek seems to tense and Stiles stows the information away, smiling as Peter moves impossibly closer to Stiles.

“Yeah. Sourwolf fits better.”

“It does,” Laura says. Stiles can hear the laughter in her voice.

“I’m starving,” Peter drawls, and he steers Stiles towards the front doors. Stiles snorts, tearing at the envelope.

“No bunnies, please. Scott left one on my bed once and I had to buy new sheets.”

“Who left a bunny on your bed?” Laura asks and Stiles coughs, glancing at Peter. The man smirks, wiggling his eyebrows, and Stiles glares at him. _Damn wolf._

“No- it’s just-,”

“My _dear_ nephews, where are you taking your _wonderful_ uncle to eat?”

“Does he have to come?” Derek asks tensely, and Peter glances back at his nephew. Stiles thinks he sees his eyes flash blue for a moment and he smiles, warm with the knowledge.

“Stiles is coming,” Peter says dangerously, and Stiles looks up at him, startled. It’s the first time he’s heard Peter so serious or threatening since he’s woken up.

“Whoa. Peter- are you sure? I mean, they’re your family. I’m not-,”

“You’re pack, remember?” Peter says quietly, and Stiles swallows hard, looking back at Derek and Laura.

“But I-,”

“You’re staying with me,” Peter says finally, ignoring his protests and walking out the door, hand firm in Stiles’.

“Besides, you have some explaining to do.”

 

* * *

 

“So you traveled through time just to stop everything from happening?”

Laura’s expression is serious but Stiles can see a trace of respect in her eyes.

“Well- yeah. I mean, I couldn’t- I wasn’t just going to let everyone die,” Stiles explains, and he feels the lump in his throat when he remembers the way Derek had looked, lying against a stone as his blood poured out onto the sand.

“ _Now_ you understand,” Peter says, and he brushes against Stiles’ shoulder. Stiles smiles at him for a moment, understanding the intentional contact. It’s reassuring; the touch of a pack member comforting another.

“So…are you going to tell Scott?”

“I…I don’t know,” Stiles says, and he bites his lip worriedly. Laura has a point- he can’t just hide this from his best friend. Not now that Peter, Derek, and Laura are together again. Pack.

“Why not?” Derek asks, and Stiles blinks, remembering when Derek tried to push Scott away to protect him.

“Well- it was my fault,” Stiles says, twisting his hands anxiously. “Because of me he was bitten and then Allison freaked out and then- look, it was all my fault. I should’ve- I just-,”

“Stiles,” Peter says quietly, and his fingers brush Stiles’ knee under the table. “You already changed that. Because of you I’m awake. You’ll never go into the woods and I won’t bite him.”

“I know. I know that, but- he doesn’t have to know,” Stiles says, and he knows his voice is pleading.

“And what about you? You just tag along with us?” Derek snaps, and Stiles blinks. Peter growls warningly and Laura glances at her brother, disapproving.

“No- no, I don’t- I’m not just gonna barge in on you all,” Stiles says, and Peter starts to speak but Stiles cuts him off.

“I’m not. You’re together and you can go find Cora now and be safe. You don’t have to stay here. There’s no reason- none of it will happen, do you understand? Laura’s alive. Peter’s sane. Scott won’t get bitten and neither will Erica or Boyd or Isaac- none of it will happen again.”

When he finishes Stiles knows his eyes are tearing up again. He can’t help it. After all he’s been through, all _they’ve_ been through, he’s fixed it. He’s changed it so that it will never happen again.

“Stiles- you don’t understand what you’ve done,” Peter says slowly, and Stiles looks up at him, confused.

“You _saved_ us. Laura is _alive_ and _I_ \- I will _never_ become what I could have been. There’s no way that we’re just going to push you away.”

“You don’t have to. Okay- I know I helped but it’s _nothing_. It was a stupid spell and I didn’t know if it was going to work. I just- I’m not going to take away your lives. You don’t have to protect me.”

Peter seems like he’s about to speak again but Laura stops him, smiling.

“Stiles, you’ll _always_ be a part of our family. But you’re right- our priority right now is to get Cora and start again. Rebuild the house, be a _family_ again.”

Peter sighs, rubbing his face with tired hands. Stiles smiles softly, hands laced on the table.

“She’s right, Peter. Look- come back once you find her if you really want to. I can’t stop you. I’ve never been able to,” Stiles laughs, and Peter smiles at him, blue eyes sparkling. “But you have to go. I’ll be fine. Heck, I need a break after all the work I’ve done.”

“We’ll be back,” Peter says fiercely, and Stiles grins, popping a french fry in his mouth.

“I know.”


	3. The School

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next obstacle is getting the pack together. Except they're not exactly wolves yet. So how do you convince a random bunch of teenagers that you're going to become best friends?

Stiles spends two more days before time jumps again. This time it’s smaller- barely half a year. He’s sixteen and it’s a school year he’s spent with Scott, thinking of the Hale family and their search for Cora. There’s not a day that goes by that Stiles doesn’t think of them.

It’s a Monday and Stiles is walking with Scott to lunch. There’s a crowd of kids murmuring over by a locker and Stiles blinks for a moment, feeling a strange pull.

“Hold on,” Stiles says, and Scott follows, frowning, as they approach the crowd.

It’s Erica.

She’s having a seizure and the kids are standing around her, laughing and murmuring and pointing. Stiles feels something burn in his chest and the rage suddenly overtakes him.

“Move back!” Stiles roars, and a few shocked students stumble backwards, eyes wide. Scott runs up to Stiles’ side, watching as his friend crouches by Erica. Stiles looks up at Scott and in a moment his friend is turning, determined.

“Everybody get back. Move,” Scott says firmly, and a few kids trickle away, the fun suddenly sucked out of the scene.

Stiles ignores the students, focusing on Erica as he moves her hair away from her face, tilting her face. He’s not sure how to deal with this but he won’t leave her side.

The nurse comes running up a minute or so later and he doesn’t protest when Stiles refuses to budge, holding Erica’s hand as the ambulance arrives.

 

* * *

 

Stiles goes to the hospital, skipping school for the first time since he’s gone back in time. Scott, understanding as always, joins him.

“C’mon, Catwoman. Time to wake up,” Stiles mutters, and Scott frowns, brow furrowed.

“What-,”

He’s cut off when Erica groans, a hand rising to cover her eyes for a moment. Stiles leans closer, breathing a sigh of relief.

“Hey. Hey- how are you feeling?”

Erica’s eyes are wary, accusing as she looks at Stiles.

“What- here to take pictures?”

Stiles feels his heart beat painfully when Erica slides herself into a sitting position, guarded and tired.

“No. I- Erica, this is Scott. We just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“You know my name?”

Stiles tries not to act too familiar as he watches her eyes widen, a hopeful expression gracing her features.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course. I’ve been meaning to talk to you but we’ve been totally bogged down with homework. What’s their deal anyways? It’s, like, barely halfway into the year.”

Stiles knows his arms are flailing and he looks ridiculous but Erica laughs, biting her lip shyly. Scott grins, resting his head on his chin.

“Dude, why didn’t you tell me sooner? We totally could’ve done English homework together,” Scott complains good-naturedly, and Erica smiles, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

“Well now you know,” Stiles says and Erica laughs, wide eyes fixed on him.

He remembers with a jolt that she’d had a crush on him at some point and the thought makes him simultaneously fond and worried. _Oh god. Now is NOT the time to remember Derek. Great. How am I supposed to let her down if I say it’s because I’m in love with a guy I know from the future?_

“Scott, can you go get your mom? Maybe we can go get burgers. I’m _starving_.”

“You’re _always_ hungry,” Scott supplies helpfully, and Erica giggles as he leaves to get his mom.

_Well, here goes nothing._

“So Scott and I are bros. We’ve known each other forever. I told him this year that we need to expand our friend circle because _hello_ , our awesomeness is too good not to share.”

“Why did you call me Catwoman?”

Stiles flounders for a second, mouth moving soundlessly.

“Well- I mean, that’s you, right? Can’t have Batman without Catwoman. You’re a badass but you’re nice. Anyways, I think it fits.”

“Right,” Erica says, smiling, and she still seems vaguely confused but it’s no big deal because that’s just what Stiles is like. “Why…why did you help me?”

“I know what it’s like,” Stiles says, smiling ruefully. “When you’re different people look at you like you’re a bomb waiting to go off. Anyways, I have a great friend to help me. You deserve the same.”

“Thanks,” Erica says hesitantly, smiling up at him. Stiles grins, leaning against the wall.

“No problem. I just kept imagining Derek and his scowl yelling at all those kids and I _knew_ I had to do something,” Stiles explains, laughing.

“Derek?”

“Oh- yeah, he’s just- he’s a friend. Thing,” Stiles waves his hand distractedly but the blush burning its way onto his face won’t stop. Erica smiles, a little sad but very knowing.

“You like him.”

“N- dude! You can’t- no! Not _Derek_ ,” Stiles scoffs, and Erica rolls her eyes, snorting.

“Sure, Batman.”

Stiles feels his heart swell and he crosses his arms, about to speak when Scott barges back in.

“Time for burgers!”

 

* * *

 

Erica becomes a fast friend. Stiles loves the way she seems to blossom all over again, more confident than he remembers but less vicious. He marvels at the way just having friends has helped her grow. _She didn’t even need the bite._

It’s a week or so later that Stiles decides it’s time for step two.

They’re at lunch and Scott is regaling Erica with a recap of Stiles’ failure in the science lab when Stiles diverts from their regular path, making a beeline for Boyd.

“Stiles! Where-,”

Scott follows Stiles as he slides his lunch tray onto the table, grinning.

“Hey, bro. Mind if we sit here?”

Boyd is watching Stiles like he’s an escaped insane asylum patient. Erica raises an eyebrow as she slides hesitantly into the spot next to Boyd and Scott glances at Stiles for direction.

“Guys, come on,” Stiles complains, rolling his eyes. “This is a thing. Boyd is our friend.”

“Oh. Why didn’t you just say so?” Scott protests, and Stiles shoves fries into his mouth, rolling his eyes as he waves a hand dismissively.

Boyd watches them warily and Erica glances at him, smiling.

“They’re always like this.”

“Must be tiring.”

 

* * *

 

A week later Stiles initiates Isaac-befriending steps. It’s harder than Erica and Boyd because Stiles _knows_ what’s going on in Isaac’s life and he also _knows_ he can’t do anything about it yet.

Isaac is guarded when Stiles leads his new group ( _pack_ ) over to him as he’s sitting on the front yard during lunch.

“Hey, Isaac,” Stiles chirps happily, and the boy looks at him, unamused.

“So we’re friends now,” Boyd deadpans, shrugging when Isaac raises an eyebrow. “No arguing. This is _Stiles_.”

“Hey! You’re not prisoners,” Stiles pouts, but his heart swells when he sees Boyd’s mouth twist in a crooked smile. It’s small but it’s there and that’s what matters.

“So Stiles said you’re good at English. What the heck is _Scarlet Letter_ supposed to be saying other than ‘don’t have sex’?” Scott asks, and his confused puppy face is enough to make Isaac choke out a surprised laugh.

Stiles doesn’t stop laughing for two straight minutes.

 

* * *

 

The days pass quickly. Stiles takes time to get to know Erica, Boyd, and Isaac. It’s not until two months later that Stiles walks into school to see Isaac’s bruised face that he knows something has to be done.

Isaac is quiet and pensive as usual and although Stiles wants to they’ve learned that it’s best to let Isaac deal with things so far. Stiles knows Jackson lives near Isaac and he helps out but sometimes it’s just too much.

Stiles decides it’s past time for him to do something stupid.

The plan is simple. When the group is studying outside at lunch Stiles rummages in Isaac’s backpack under the guise of looking for a highlighter. He pretends to accidentally dump his backpack out from where it sits on his lap and as the pack makes fun of him he laughs it off, haphazardly putting things back.

Stiles slips the emergency inhaler he keeps into Isaac’s backpack. It’s a flimsy excuse but he can’t think of anything else.

That afternoon Stiles explains to Scott.

“I don’t like this,” Scott says, worried. Stiles sighs, rubbing his too-short hair anxiously.

“I know. But think about it. He doesn’t deserve this, Scott. We can’t _do_ anything unless we get the police involved. My dad can help, but I need to get evidence.”

Stiles makes the call at seven.

“Hey, bro- look, can you check your backpack for something?”

Stiles doesn’t have to pretend to sound anxious. He feels the weight of what he’s about to do coil in his chest.

“Sure. What am I looking for?” Isaac sounds vaguely amused and Stiles knows his father hasn’t done anything, is probably asleep or away.

“Inhaler. I think I might have accidentally put it in yours or something.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s here,” Isaac says, and he sounds concerned. “Do you need it?”

“Um- you know what, I’ll drop by real quick. Won’t take long,” Stiles rushes, and he moves quickly, rushing out the door, making sure to make enough noise for Isaac to hear over the phone.

“Wait- Stiles,” Isaac starts, panicking, but Stiles pretends not to hear, heart clenching.

“I’ll be right there, okay? Bye,” Stiles says quickly, and then he hangs up and throws his phone into the passenger seat.

It’s getting darker outside, the winter weather bearing down with malice. Stiles shivers, wishing he had his jacket with him. The doorbell is _right there_ and Stiles doesn’t let himself dwell for another moment before he rings it.

Mr. (Coach, Stiles thinks) Lahey answers the door. He’s obviously drunk and Stiles grins, trying his best to emulate the little shit he knows he can be.

“Hey, Mr. Lahey. I’m just here to pick something up I left with Isaac.”

“Too bad,” he grunts, but as he’s closing the door Stiles sticks his foot in the gap, heart racing.

“It’s an inhaler. I, like, _seriously_ need it, you know?”

Stiles watches Isaac’s father and the way his eyes sharpen dangerously. He looms over Stiles, sneering.

“Maybe you didn’t hear me, punk. I said _too bad_.”

Stiles can hear Isaac running downstairs and he wills the boy to stay back.

“Maybe _you_ didn’t hear _me_. I _need_ the inhaler. What if I have a panic attack and pass out on your porch?”

His tone is sarcastic and annoyed and Stiles knows it’s the kind of voice that used to make Derek threaten to rip out his throat. He wonders vaguely what Coach Lahey will do.

“Look, you little _shit_ ,” he begins, and Stiles feels triumphant before Isaac runs down the remaining stairs, panic written on his face.

“Stiles. H-,” Before he can finish, Coach Lahey shoves Isaac back.

“Go back to your room,” Isaac’s father growls, and Stiles pretends ignorance, frowning.

“Whoa- hey. Don’t push him. I just-,”

“Don’t you tell me what to do, you little bastard,” Lahey says, and he pushes Stiles back from the door, angry and drunk.

Isaac rushes forward, pushing his father’s arms away from Stiles.

“Dad, _stop_ ,” Isaac pleads, and Stiles hates the way he sounds. For a minute Coach Lahey looks at Isaac, startled, and Stiles thinks it may just end there. And then it happens.

_SLAP_.

Stiles gasps, eyes widening as Isaac stumbles backwards, hand rising to the red flowering on his cheek. The same monster that he felt during Erica’s seizure rises in Stiles’ chest as he watches Isaac wince in pain. _No one hurts pack._ **_No one._**

“Stop,” Stiles says, channeling the deadly intent he’d felt when the nogitsune took over. It’s still there, the cold willingness to cause chaos and pain and death. He distantly thinks that this is the only good that came of being possessed.

“You _shut_ the fuck up,” Coach Lahey snarls, and Stiles steels himself as the man shoves him.

“You’re a monster,” Stiles says quietly, and he instinctively knows what he has to do. “What are you going to do? Drown me like you almost let Matt drown?”

The punch that hits Stiles knocks him back a step and turns to see Isaac’s eyes widen, the way he’s ready to move. Stiles glares at him, shaking his head slightly and instilling as much authority as he can in the movement. Isaac’s father is still angry.

“You get your ass out of here!”

“Stop!” Stiles yells back, and he feels the rage within him howling for blood. He knows he has to be careful with what he says. He’s a minor and Lahey can go away for long enough if Stiles doesn’t fight back.

When he hits Stiles again the sounds of sirens echo down the road.

 

* * *

 

Stiles’ dad is furious.

The police showed up just as Stiles was being knocked onto the ground. Apparently Jackson had heard the commotion and called the cops.

Isaac was silent the whole ride to the station, clinging to Stiles like a lifesaver. The officer was one of Stiles’ dad’s friends and he’d kept looking back at the boys worriedly. Stiles had felt a settling victory, the relief of having finally done something.

At the station Stiles and Isaac each talk to an officer. The men are sympathetic and Stiles tries to get through the process as quickly as possible so he can get to Isaac. Stiles’ dad shows up just as Stiles is finishing.

“Are you okay?”

His dad is turning his face in his hands, looking at the bruises with combined horror and anger. Stiles smiles crookedly, knowing just how hellish he looks.

“Yeah, dad. I’m fine. I-,”

“That son of a bitch is going to _pay_ ,” the sheriff growls.

“Dad. This is not about _me._ It’s about Isaac.”

His dad’s eyes light up with realization at the words. He shakes his head, disbelieving.

“Stiles. You didn’t-,”

“I _had_ to. How the fuck _else_ were we going to get him away from Isaac? He _abuses_ him, dad,” Stiles says coldly, feeling his fists clench. The movement is painful but grounding.

“This wasn’t the way.”

“Then what? Dad, I am _not_ going to stand by and let this happen. I’m not permanently damaged. Not like Isaac would have been if I’d let this continue.”

His father is silent, hands running over his face wearily.

“Okay. Okay, Stiles. But don’t you _ever_ -,”

“I won’t,” Stiles says calmly, but he knows even as he says it that he’s lying.

Because he’s Stiles and he’ll be damned if he lets anyone touch _his_ family.

 

* * *

 

The day after the attack Stiles is walking in town with Isaac, Scott, Erica, and Boyd. They’re buying groceries for the dinner Stiles is going to make at his house. It’s a new idea that Stiles has decided to follow up on- dinner on Wednesdays and Sundays. He knows that Isaac needs support now more than ever and it’s important for them to stay together.

It’s dark already and they’re in the middle of loading Stiles’ jeep when Stiles hears his name. He turns slowly, heart beating like a drum, and sees the Hales emerging from under the light of a lamppost.

Stiles feels his smile cracking his face, the vague tears rising in his eyes. It’s been maybe half a year but it feels like ages.

Peter is there in a second, smiling, blue eyes bright. He’s hugging Stiles without a second thought and Stiles laughs, letting the older man lift him off the ground for a moment. Laura is close behind, unafraid and sisterly as she kisses Stiles’ cheek.

Derek hangs back and Stiles watches him as he stands by Cora, more relaxed than Stiles has ever seen him.

“What, no hello, Sourwolf?” Stiles calls over Laura’s shoulder.

Cora raises an eyebrow, looking at Derek. He glances at Peter and Laura.

“Oh, _honestly_ ,” Peter drawls, and Derek huffs, rolling his eyes and pushing past his uncle.

“Hey,” Derek says hesitantly, and Stiles laughs, boldly overcoming his beating heart and yanking the man into a hug.

“Did you miss me?” Stiles jokes, trying to look closer when he thinks he sees Derek blushing.

“…you’re hurt,” Derek says suddenly, peering at Stiles in the dim light, and then suddenly Peter is at their side.

“Stiles. Who did this to you?”

Stiles can see the edge of Peter’s teeth threatening to emerge and he backs away, glancing back. _Must change the subject. Must change the subject._

“Guys! Come here!”

Stiles calls back to his pack, the teens standing warily at his trunk. They move forward slowly and Scott smiles when he sees Peter.

“Hey,” Scott says, smiling, and Stiles grins in relief.

“So! Introductions. This is Scott, Erica, Boyd, and Isaac. They’re the best people in the world, aside from the Hales,” Stiles jokes, laughing when Derek raises an eyebrow, unimpressed.

“Well, any friend of yours,” Laura says, and she smiles at the pack. Stiles feels almost giddy at the scene. _Everyone I care about- almost everyone._

“Hey! I’m making dinner tonight, you guys should come,” Stiles offers, and Derek frowns, eyes still fixed to the bruise on the side of Stiles’ face.

“We’d love that. Cora hasn’t met you yet,” Laura says, smiling back at her sister. Stiles grins, waving at her.

“Well, we’re probably going to eat at eight since I have to cook everything. You can drop by a few minutes before then.”

“We’ll see you then.”

Laura hugs him again before leaving and Stiles watches them walk away. Peter hesitates, looking back at the pack.

“We _will_ talk, Stiles.”

Stiles notices the sadness, the fierce protectiveness in Peter’s eyes. He steps forward, hugging the man and trying to instill all the comfort he can in the touch.

“Sure thing, Creeper Wolf.”

 

* * *

 

It’s bizarre when Stiles gets home and finds Jackson waiting on his porch.

“Um- hi,” Stiles says, blinking as his arms are weighed down with groceries. The pack are standing behind him, shifting curiously.

“Stilinski,” Jackson says, and his voice is tight but he seems…embarrassed? Stiles isn’t sure.

Isaac steps forwards and Stiles realizes what’s happening. Jackson is looking at Stiles’ face, cataloging the bruises, the cut on his lip.

“Hey. Wanna come in for dinner?” He doesn’t even think before he offers, completely at ease.

“Wh- me?” Jackson looks completely perplexed and Stiles tries not to laugh.

It’s so unlike Jackson. He’s not in control and it’s kind of adorable. _Oh my god, did I just think JACKSON was ADORABLE?_

“Yeah. Wait- is that Lydia?” Stiles glances at Jackson’s car, squinting at the figure seated there.

Lydia seems to glance away quickly when he looks, immediately looking at the visor before her, pretending to check her lip gloss in the mirror. Stiles grins.

“Yeah. Why?”

Jackson’s once again on top, sounding vaguely bored and cool. Stiles ignores the affectation, tapping Jackson’s arm to get him away from the front door so he can unlock it.

“Invite her in too. We’re waiting on some others but I’m going to start making stuff.”

As Stiles waits for the others to file in he watches Jackson, taking note of the genuine excitement in his eyes. No matter what, Stiles remembers that Jackson never wanted to be alone. He needed _family_ , people he could count on and trust. Stiles feels a comfortable warmth settle in his chest as he watches Jackson and Lydia approach.

They’re almost complete. They’re almost _pack_.

 

* * *

 

Stiles makes so much food he’s afraid the table will break.

There’s salad, pasta, chicken, and Stiles’ homemade breadsticks. He’s proud of his work and everyone seems to be happy.

Stiles watches as Erica and Boyd chat happily, Isaac and Scott happily flinging carrots out of their salads at each other. Laura, Lydia, and Cora all sit comfortably at the table, the picture of propriety. Jackson surprisingly seems to take up with Derek quickly and Stiles shakes his head, smiling.

It’s almost heartbreaking to see. Stiles feels a pang when he remembers Jackson’s transformation as the kanima, Laura’s death, the way Erica and Boyd had been locked up. He feels a lump forming in his throat and he turns away quickly, clearing his throat as he finishes putting away the extra food in the kitchen.

“So. What happened?”

“Peter, one of these days you’re going to kill me with a heart attack,” Stiles deadpans, but Peter is not to be deterred.

“Stiles.”

“…Isaac’s dad, remember? I wanted to help.”

The realization on Peter’s face makes Stiles feel a little bit better. He may not have been through the future (past?) that Stiles had but he _knows_.

“Stiles,” Peter says warmly, and it’s very weird. Peter is not _warm_ unless he’s covered in blood.

_Ew. Okay. Not good memories._

“I know I’m human, okay? I was prepared.”

“Sure you were,” Peter says, smiling faintly.

“You don’t remember- you never- I’ve _done_ things, Peter. Just because this time it’s different doesn’t mean I don’t have that experience,” Stiles says darkly, and Peter sighs.

“I know you’re capable, Stiles. I would know that even if I didn’t know you…time travelled,” Peter explains, waving a hand vaguely. “But you have to remember that you have _pack_. You have people to help you.”

“They’re not _pack_ , Peter, they’re _humans_ ,” Stiles says angrily, and Peter shakes his head, steering Stiles gently to look at the table everyone’s crowded around.

“They _are_ pack, Stiles. You remember. We had humans in ours. Being human doesn’t make a difference. Think about it, Stiles.”

Stiles watches them, the way Isaac lets Scott touch him. The way that Jackson is _smiling_ and it’s _real_. The way that Lydia isn’t wide-eyed and worried.

“Have you told anyone yet?” Peter asks quietly and Stiles shakes his head.

“I can’t.”

“Stiles. They’re family. Tell them.”

 

* * *

 

The big reveal isn’t really _big_. In some ways it might have been but for the most part Stiles has skated by easily with the help of the Hales. At first it had been a lot to process but eventually the pack had realized it made sense.

“Is that how you knew to find us?” Erica asks, leaning back in her seat on the couch.

“Yeah. I knew this time had to be different,” Stiles explains, sagging back in his chair. The whole story had been exhausting to tell but he’d skipped over a lot of things for the sake of time. They didn’t need to know all the grisly details of a time that never happened.

“So that’s why you talked to Peter,” Derek realizes, and Stiles nods.

“I knew it started with him. I didn’t want him to feel alone. I figured he needed pack but I couldn’t make that happen so I just tried to be there.”

“Smart,” Laura says. “Did you know that wolves heal faster with pack?”

“I figured. It’s something I noticed before. I wasn’t sure I would work, though, since I’m not actually _pack_. Or a wolf, whatever.”

“That’s not it,” Cora interrupts, and Stiles turns to look at her, confused. She blinks, glancing at Derek. “What- they haven’t told you?”

“Told me what?”

“It’s…hard to explain,” Peter says slowly, frowning. Stiles looks up at him, brow furrowed.

“What’s hard to explain?”

“You smell good,” Laura deadpans, and Scott snorts, apologizing quietly as he tries not to laugh. Stiles sticks his tongue out at him, waving for Laura to continue. She just shakes her head, looking pointedly at Derek.

“There’s something about your scent that we…I don’t know, it’s _right_ ,” Derek mumbles and won’t look at Stiles.

“Wait. I _smell_ good to werewolves?”

For some reason the pack find the thought extremely hilarious.


	4. The Pack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allison arrives and Stiles prepares himself for the final steps towards becoming pack.

Stiles goes to sleep and wakes up the first day of school when Allison shows up.

It’s startling but he thinks for a minute and realizes that the time jump is getting smaller and smaller. _Maybe it’s almost over._ His nose is bleeding again and it seems worse than before but Stiles chalks it up to stress.

The pack are werewolves now.

It was a lengthy, borderline violent discussion. Stiles had acted as intermediary, calming Derek as best he could as Scott tried to convince the Hales that their intentions were good. They’d argued that they’d obviously done fine in Stiles’ experience and the added benefit of a stable pack would make the transition better.

Derek had argued that they should wait until after high school. He’d been adamant that it was hard enough to deal with the bite without having school to worry over.

Stiles had overrode Derek’s argument by pointing out that turning someone before _college_ would be even worse.

Eventually they’d come to a decision. Since Laura was the Alpha she’d ultimately decide. It ended up that Laura had taken the arguments seriously and conceded that according to Stiles’ experience they were perfectly worthy and capable of receiving the bite.

It was a change they’d had time to get used to.

The pack was bitten over the summer and the Hales had trained them rigorously, taking care to make sure they each understood the gravity of the decision they’d made. Stiles had made himself at home watching and finishing the book he’d been putting together at Peter’s request.

All of it was there. The kanima, the nogitsune, the encounter in Mexico. Stiles had written down everything he’d remembered in a book that he could use if they ever encountered any of the same experiences. He hadn’t let anyone read it but he knew they wondered. Stiles hadn’t told any of them the particulars beyond who had died and what had attacked them.

Stiles gets ready for school and sends out a group message.

_Allison’s arriving today._

 

* * *

 

Scott is antsy the whole way to school. Stiles rolls his eyes fondly as he remembers this- the way Scott had always been happy to see Allison, the way he never stopped gushing.

“Dude, calm down. Lydia’s already getting ready to attack the poor girl in the morning. You’re going to freak her out if you walk in and ask her out.”

“Stiles, _you_ told me about her,” Scott complains, and Stiles can’t argue.

They’re walking into school when they see her and Stiles almost forgets to breathe.

Allison is just like he remembers. The smile, the light that seems to follow her and illuminate her features. He remembers the way she’d looked at him when the nogitsune took over. The way she’d had to prepare herself, had to look inside herself to see if she was even capable of killing him. Maybe he hadn’t known her long enough but it was definitely enough to hurt. Enough that he’d cried.

Scott’s gone before Stiles has time to compose himself. Stiles smiles when his best friend approaches Allison, smiling and full of a shine that’s never been there before.

_I get to watch them fall in love all over again._

 

* * *

 

Scott is wary of telling Allison about what he is.

Stiles explains to Scott that the issue arises when he waits. He reminds Scott that even when Allison had hunted them she’s eventually realized that it was wrong.

“You can’t wait until after you start dating, Scott. Her family are hunters. What do you think happens if Kate shows up? You’ll end up looking like a liar.”

“But what if she freaks out? What if-,”

“Allison is a _huntress_ , Scott.”

“In _your_ memory she is! Now-,”

“No. Not in my memory,” Stiles interrupts firmly. “Allison is strong. That’s just who she is. Being a hunter, knowing about werewolves- that has nothing to do with it. Archery is her _hobby_ , Scott.”

Scott still looks a little bit tortured and Stiles sighs, parking in front of the bowling alley were Scott’s date is.

“Look. I’ve seen…I know what you two are like. She won’t hate you, Scott. Just…trust her.”

 

* * *

 

The next morning at school Scott is surprisingly calm.

“So how did it go?”

“She said she needed time. I…I know it’s a lot,” Scott admits, and Stiles shuts his locker.

“It is. Did she seem…I don’t know, okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so.”

 

* * *

 

“Stiles.”

It’s Allison. Stiles smiles at her kindly, ignoring the rush of students heading towards the front doors.

“Hey. What’s up?”

“Scott…he said you…I don’t know…,”

“Time travelled with some ancient spell? Yeah. Weird, I know.”

Stiles cuts her off easily, smiling in an attempt to help her relax. Allison sighs, loosening up a bit.

“It’s just…it’s hard to believe, you know? And I…I don’t know what to think.”

“Listen. I know it’s a lot. But what do you feel?”

Allison shifts her bag, glancing sideways. Stiles waits patiently, watching her closely.

“I…I don’t know. He’s different. I mean, I like him,” Allison amends, and Stiles notices her blush.

“Then why not? Do you trust him?”

“I think so,” Allison says slowly, and Stiles shoulders his backpack.

“Then talk to him.”

 

* * *

 

A week after her talk with Scott, Allison shows up at Sunday dinner. Stiles feels the gap in his chest close completely.

They’re safe. All of them.

The pack seems to notice Stiles’ contentment.

“Is this what you were hoping for?” Peter asks quietly as he helps Stiles with the dishes.

“Yeah. I mean- it’s just…it’s perfect,” Stiles says, and he knows he’s getting teary but he doesn’t even care. The pack is safe and they’re all together again. There’s no better feeling in the world.

“You know it’s thanks to you,” Derek says as he walks into the kitchen. Stiles feels himself flush and he desperately tries to play it off, sinking his hands into the soapy dishwater.

“I wasn’t the only one. Lydia and Deaton-,”

“You went through with it even though you knew something could go wrong,” Derek interrupts, and Stiles thinks back to the blood that’s been pouring out of his nose more often than not.

“I had to.”

“ _Why_ did you _have_ to?” Derek asks, and Stiles can’t meet his intent gaze.

“Because we’re family. We’re pack.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. This seemed so much longer when it was one long document. I hope you enjoyed it! I know I liked writing this episodic story. I really felt like a fix-it was necessary for me to recuperate from this last season's utter emotional turmoil. Please R&R and expect a sequel soon!

**Author's Note:**

> It took me a while to get around to writing this. I've always wanted to write a fix-it but I never had the courage to do so. I hope you enjoy it!


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